


Lords of their Kingdom

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-31
Updated: 2005-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It unfolded – that last day before summer was chased into memory by the crimson sweep of a thundering train – erratically, clumsily, as if something inside them already reached toward school's predictable routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lords of their Kingdom

It unfolded – that last day before summer was chased into memory by the crimson sweep of a thundering train – erratically, clumsily, as if something inside them already reached toward school's predictable routine. They fell out of bed, roused by Mrs. Lupin's shout, horrified to have overslept and stunned by the prospect of what might have happened had she braved her son's room to rouse them in person. Peering at each other from across the still-warm span of Remus' mattress, they wove frantic, silent explanations for their fervent slumber out of air; for the grace that even they'd begun to notice permeate their limbs at night (in contrast to the rough-and-tumble spill of knees and elbows that slammed into walls and bicycles and dock supports and postmen and doorways during the day). No mother, least of all one so excellent as Mrs. Lupin, could have peered around Remus' bedroom door and missed the telling affection of Remus' fingers at the small of Sirius' back, nor the smile of contentment that had found an unexpected (and seemingly permanent) home on Sirius' face.

Sirius swallowed, pulse thrumming desperately. "Crikey," he managed.

"Um," said Remus. "Fuck."

He fell back against the carpet and began to laugh.

Breakfast was less a meal than an assault upon the kitchen, the pantry and refrigerator raided with boyish efficiency, hunger slain by the skilful deployment of eggs, toast and jam. Sirius garnered a milk moustache while he examined the personals at the back of the _Prophet_ , while Remus pretended not to be wearing a kipper on his head when his mother came into the room to freshen her tea.

When Fish Boy and Corporal Milkhead ventured out into the garden, it was with the vibrating enthusiasm of those who knew autumn waited in the wings and yet meant to defy it. For a glorious five minutes they stood on the back doorstep, saying nothing, soaking up the last of their stolen-summer world. But then, as with most things, the quiet was broken by Sirius' yell (a curse in primitive Swedish – most inventive, Remus thought) and the race was on to see who could make it to the pond most quickly, given that tripping, biting, and the hurling of epithets were most definitely allowed.

Sirius discovered two new, profoundly personal places it was possible to get mud that morning, while Remus came face to face with a lost and irate cockerel who chased him half way round the pond, crowing in a most unsportsmanlike manner when Remus sought refuge in the water's depths. At lunchtime they slunk back to the Lupins' ramshackle cottage, filthy and bedraggled, shushing each other as they foraged for food and leaving smudgy footprints on the once-pristine floor. With cheese and bread clasped in their grubby fingers, bottles of pop under their arms and apples in their mouths, they ran for the trees at the end of the garden and climbed as if pursued (which they were, by September, a fearsome beast with eyes like McGonagall and the temperament of Filch).

The afternoon fled beneath their dangling feet. Comfortably jammed into the branches of a tree they talked of NEWTS and the improbabilities of Dumbledore's love life. Sirius speculated that Lily Evans was at least part troll, while Remus wondered aloud if it were possible to jam two rather gangly boys into the alcove beside the Potions classroom, and leave enough room for the shift of a productive if restless hand.

Sirius almost fell out of the tree, and Remus laughed as he hauled him back up.

Dinner was prompt and balanced and _boring_ \- chicken and carrots, potatoes and green beans. Sirius ate every mouthful as if it were ambrosia, but Remus suspected that had more to with the Padfootian uses being contemplated for Mrs. Lupin's jelly molds than because the chicken was especially good. There was chocolate cake for dessert and lemonade that sent explosive bubbles up their noses, and Mr. Lupin called them both impossibly immature six times before the meal was done.

Too soon it was evening, and there were trunks to be packed, books to stow, clothes to fold and the dwindling light of summer's last day to watch from the roof with regret.

"I'll miss this," said Sirius, chewing his thumbnail, staring west as if he might will the sun to pause in its August glory.

"Me too," said Remus, soaking up the sensation of roof tiles warm beneath his hands, the line of Sirius' profile, the scent of dry grass. There was little else to say - the Gryffindor sky was fading swiftly to Ravenclaw night. But lords of their kingdom, their fingers clasped, they kissed with dust-sweet lips and stole the honeyed taste of summer twilight from the corners of each other's mouths.


End file.
